


What was lost

by Rainmaker221



Series: Long life lived [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainmaker221/pseuds/Rainmaker221
Summary: The world burned, and Allen Marks survived it but not unscathed. Almost everything he he knew and loved was burned away. All that's left is Shaun, and even he was stolen away. Now, all that's left is for Allen to find Shaun. All that's left is for Allen to get back what was taken. (Part one of the "Long Life Lived" Series)





	1. Prolouge

Nathan Wake was born on April 1st, 2049, in the Commonwealth of America; he went on to live a good life. He was valedictorian, captain of the track team, and a member of both the water polo and basketball teams. Upon graduation, he enlisted in the United States Army. And on May 5th, 2069 Nathan Wake was killed in action.  
On May 6th, 2069 the CIA inducted a new agent, Allen Marks. Allen Marks was a Black Ops agent, one of two dozen to be given the honor and burden of saving the world. As a unit they'd perform Ops so dark that when the war was over, the CIA was going to put the survivors on trial for war crimes. Allen Marks wasn't going to survive the war. He would be imprisoned or sentenced to death.  
Allen Marks wasn't always in foreign lands, he wasn't always on an op. He spent at least five months of his year in the States planning, prepping, and being a public figure for the CIA.  
On July 4th, 2075 he was at a government soirée when he met the assistant DA for the city of Boston, Nora Taylor.  
Nora and Allen Marks were married on September 18th, 2076. Their son, Shaun, was born February 12th, 2077.  
From March to September, Allen Marks was in Russia investigating a gulag. He was given October to plan and come November, Allen marks was going to free the 213 American prisoners and die during the escape. Nathan Wake was going to be among the rescued prisoners to return to his family.  
Allen Marks was going to die – only to become Nathan Wake. He would find his old life. Allen Marks was never meant to survive the war. Nathan Wake was destined to survive everything.  
Nora and Shaun were going to be asked to a CIA public office where Allen would explain everything. Nora was going to be angry, but she understood the war. She would call Nathan "Allen" a few times before she finally got used to it. Nathan Wake was going to retire, with honors.  
pBut on October 23rd, 2077 the bombs fell. Nathan Wake was never reborn. Allen Marks and his family took shelter in a vault, where Allen was going to tell Nora everything. But they were sealed in Cryogenic chambers, Allen was going to tell Nora everything, but when he awoke from his cryosleep it was to his son horrid sight.   
“Let him go, I'm only going to tell you once.” Allen couldn't see whoever the scratched sandpapered voice belonged too, he didn't recognize it, but he recognized the next noise. BANG  
Allen was going to tell Nora everything, but now she wasn't alive to be told.  
Once, Allen Marks had intended to become Nathan Wake, but now, Allen Marks was stuck. He would always be a Black Ops CIA agent and Lord help the soon to be dead man who dared to kill his wife and take his child.  
Lord help anyone who stands in his way.


	2. Interview with a spy

Allen’s interview with Piper was strangely reminiscent of when he was forced to see an CIA trained psychologist after a friend of his was KIA. It started with clarifying questions.  
“For the record,” Piper said taking out a holo recorder. “State your name.”  
“Allen Marks.” Piper didn’t know what to think of Allen. Most of him was hidden. He was wearing a long, brown, tattered, coat. He was wearing a bandanna adorned with decorative skulls on the lower half of his face. What Allen didn’t hid with his apparel he hid with a blank and unyielding expression.  
“Age?”  
“Twenty Eight, technically.” Things got interesting fast.  
“Technically?”  
“The Vault had us frozen in cryogenic stasis, what year is it?”  
“2282.” Piper answered wearily.  
“Than I guess i’m actually 233 years old.”  
“Wait,” Piper exclaimed, “You were alive before the war?” She asked doubtfully  
“Yes.”  
“Oh my god!” Piper said giddy at the direction the story was going “The man out of time.”  
“So. You've seen the Commonwealth. Diamond City. How does it compare to your old life?”n  
“I don’t know.”  
If Agent Allen Marks was running the show he would've lied,said some blarney about diamond city giving him hope. But the Agent had shown himself yet, Allen was still shell shocked.  
“You don’t know?”  
“It just hasn't sunk in yet I guess.” Piper nodded at that, scratched the back of her head, sighed and looked up from her notepad.  
“Now, the big question, You came all this way looking for someone. Who is it?”  
“You heard wrong i'm not looking for anyone.” Agent Marks snapped..  
“Don’t” Piper said putting up her finger and waving it, “Don’t lie to me blue, this is your story, don’t you want people to know the truth.?”  
“Why, the fuck! do you care?” Allen half shouted,while standing up and starting to pace  
“This is news. No one else in Diamond City may care about the missing but my paper does.”  
“I lost family okay,” Allen admitted, throwing his hands over his eyes. “I’m trying to get one of them back.  
“What's their name Blue, who were they.” Piper said sternly but kindly.  
“My son,” Allen admitted. The admission seemed to drain him, he sat back down eyes more tired than before,“My son Shaun, my little big man.” Piper resisted the urge to chuckle at the nickname for Shaun. Instead she pressed on with the interview  
“Alright, just a few more questions, Who do you think stole your son?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Do you think the Institute has anything to do with it?”  
“ I don’t know.”  
“No one ever does, that's what makes them so scary.” Piper said more to herself.  
“For the last part of our interview, i’d like to do something different, i’d like for you to make a statement to diamond city directly.” Piper knew this was a lot to ask, so she tried to pump Allen up for it. “The threat of kidnapping is all but ignored in the Commonwealth, everyone wants to pretend it doesn’t happen. What would you say to someone who’s lost a loved one, but might be too scared, or too numb to the world to look for them.?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Blue,”  
“Piper, I don’t know. I wish I did Piper I really do.” Allen confessed standing up again. “But I just don’t. To me, Piper, I had Shaun a week ago, three days ago. And now he’s missing. To me, my wife was murdered a just yesterday. I don’t know how long it's actually been, Piper, could have been days, weeks, months or years.” Allen went quiet, but Piper was a good listener, she knew that there would be more.  
“I’ve never been good at this, that was Nora. She was so good at people, and emotions, and dealing with stuff that was hers. She would have been great.” Piper could hear the smile fade in Allen voice. “But she’s dead. And my sons gone, and yesterday morning they were neither.” Allen could have gotten angry, he had every right to, these questions from this person. How dare she? But he didn’t instead he was shell shocked. “So tell me Piper, how should I feel? What should I say? How can I tell people what to do when I just, don't” pause, “fucking,” a hitched breath, “know.” What sounded like a sob.  
Piper reached over and hit the “end record” putt on on the holorecorder,She flipped her notebook closed, and waited. Eventually Allen looked up at Piper.  
“Thats everything,” Piper said simply, “It might take some time but i think your story is going to give diamond city plenty to think about.” That's assuming that she went through with it, some things were too personal for the press.  
“Look about your son,” Piper started, “i’ve got a friend i think he can help his name is Nick Valentine, detective extraordinaire got an office here in diamond city just look for the neon sign with the heart in it.”  
Allen tried not to let himself get hopeful, but the father in him was exited, and the Agent in him was in full swing. He had a lead, he had hope. Piper, on the other hand, was still thinking about her end of the bargain.  
“Anyway I agreed to come with you,” Piper said with a shrug, masking her excitement “watch your back, just say the word when you're ready, I wanna help with the next part of your story.”  
Allen Marks stood up with a newfound light in his eyes. He had a lead.  
“Ready to go?”  
“One moment?” Piper said with a grin, she stood up and called, “Nat!”  
Allen waited less than patiently (he had a lead) while Piper said her “see ya laters” with Nat, don't spend too much at the noodle hut, you're still grounded for punching that boy in class, if you touch my stash of gum you're in trouble. The usual stuff.  
“Are you ready now?” Allen asked failing to mask his excitement.  
“Yes, Blue” Piper said with a chuckle “I'm ready.” A strange couple of syllables left Allen Marks, causing Piper to do a double take.  
“You alright?”  
“Of course” he had a lead.  
“What was that?” She asked incredulously.  
“Russian, rough translation, ‘here we go.’”  
“Why do you speak Russian.”  
“Not important,” he had a lead the lead was important, “let's go.”  
“Fine, blue fine” Piper chuckled out reminded of the times she's been lead around the market by an excited Nat.  
Allen didn't lack for energy, there was no doubt about that.  
But he finally had a fucking lead.


	3. A clockwork rescue

Nick was good at a lot of things - solving mysteries, clues, and he was a decent handyman (well, synth). But all in all, he was most proud of his fast thinking brain and a tongue that could keep up with it. However, with the way Skinny Malone had been talking lately it probably wouldn't be enough. Nick might not live to see next week, but he had enough skills to get this meat-headed jackass Dino off his back.  
"Keep talking, meathead." Nick said casually, not even looking up from the book he smuggled in with him. "It'll give Skinny Malone more time to think about how he's gonna bump you off."  
"Don't give me that crap, Valentine. You don't know nothin'. You got nothin." Dino said dismissively.  
"Really?" Nick asked, looking up from the book, "I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. 'Lousy cheating card shark,' I think were the exact words. Then he struck the name three times."  
Nick enjoyed the "Oh shit," look that was beginning to gradually appear on Dino's face.  
"Three strikes? In the black book?" Dino said starting to sweat "But I never...oh no...I gotta smooth things over fast." He said starting to leave.  
"Yeah, you do that." Nick mumbled. He was about to go back to his book before he heard a thud, a thud that he now recognized as a body hitting the floor. Nick looked up and was overjoyed to see Piper, though he was less overjoyed to see a man wearing a black skull bandanna going through the pockets of Dino. But hey, now wasn't the time to get picky.  
"Look Piper, we got three minutes until they realize muscles-for brains ain't coming back. Get this door open."  
"Good to see you, too, Nick."  
"Likewise."  
"Got the password," said the previously hunched over man, holding up a slip of paper.  
Nick gave Piper a proper hug when the door was open, "So," He said, eyeing the new guy, "Who's the help?"  
"Technically, I'm the help," Piper said with a shrug. Nick gave Piper a quick glance before staring down the new guy.  
"I'm on a missing person's case and Piper said you could help. Your assistant told us you were missing and here we are." New Guy explained.  
"I get the feeling there's more to this story."  
"That's the 'three minutes to get the hell out of dodge' version." New Guy replied.  
"Well then, let's go." Nick said.  
Nick filled his old and new friends in on the case, or "sit rep" as new guy said when asking.  
"I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak."  
The trio stopped abruptly, hearing voices down the hall.  
"Do we have a chance of talking our way out?" New Guy asked.  
"Not much of one," Nick answered grimly.  
"Fuck."  
"Not a killer then?" Nick asked.  
"I just hate involving civilians," New Guy said, pulling a pistol and a knife from his coat. "Give me some room," he ordered. "Stay close to each other and only engage when necessary."  
"Got it." Piper responded, pulling out her own pistol.  
"Here," New Guy said, handing Nick a revolver.  
"Thanks,"  
The trio proceeded to storm the trenches, or hallways as the case may be.  
Nick was impressed at first, New Guy was a good shot. It was almost surgical. Two shots to a chest, one to the head. No doubt whatsoever that the person on the receiving end was dead. When somebody rushed the New Guy, Nick went from being impressed to being scared. One Triggerman managed to knock New Guy's gun out of his hands, but when the sorry mug tried for punch, New guy grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him, while kicking out at the Triggerman's side. There was an audible crack of ribs breaking and pop of an arm dislocating. The kick threw the triggerman off his feet and New Guy brought him back to earth with a knife in the chest.  
New Guy, whoever he was, was a human weapon.  
Luckily, they got a break when they got a locked door. Unfortunately the lock was a bit too much for Nick.  
"Look for a key."  
New Guy had already stepped up to Nick's side. "Let me try."  
"You do that, I'll look for a key." Nick declared. New guy just kind of grunted, as he already had a bobby pin or two in his mouth.  
When Nick and Piper were out of earshot, they started to chat.  
"He's a good fighter," Nick started.  
"I didn't know that, I hadn't seen him fight until now."  
"He's very intense." Nick went on as he opened a drawer.  
"He has every right to be. On an unrelated note, I found a box of gum!" Piper said, popping out from behind a counter  
"Not the point, Piper, and why does he have every right to be?" Nick asked as he crossed his arms.  
"That missing person's case of his," Piper said.  
"Yeah what about it?"  
"It's his son."  
Nick Valentine sympathised with that. Nick the synth detective had a few memories that he had no right to have, memories that belonged to Nick the human detective among them a pretty young fiance and many nights trying for kids. Regardless, Nick understood.  
"That'll do it." Nick said, more to himself than anyone else.  
There was a brief silence that was interrupted by New Guy calling out.  
"Got the door open! Let's move!"  
"Careful, we still haven't seen Skinny Malone…" Nick was cut off before he could finish his warning.  
"I think we have." Piper said, reaching for her gun.  
In front of them was Skinny, two triggerman, and a broad with a baseball bat. Nick didn't like the body count shaping up.  
"Nicky," Skinny called out, "What're you doin'? You come into my house, shoot up my guys. You know how much this is gonna set me back?"  
Nick stepped forward, ready to own up to the situation.  
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often."  
"Awww… Poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beat up by a girl?" Darla said with a voice just condescending enough to make Nick consider violence. "I'll just run home to daddy, shall I?"  
"Hopefully." New Guy piped up.  
"Who's this asshole? Some guy Nicky hired to kill us?" Darla snapped, "Told you - you should have just killed him, but noooo, you had to go on and on about 'the good old days."  
"Darla, I'm handling it. Malone's always got things under control."  
"No, Skinny Malone, you really don't." New Guy said, stepping forward. "We came into your house, shot up your guys, you know how much we set you back?" New Guy turned his attention from Skinny to Darla, and his voice went from harsh and spiteful to soft and nurturing. "And Darla, your place isn't here, it's back home with a family that loves you, not with these thugs."  
The look of panic crossing Darla's face would have been funny if it hadn't been sad.  
"I...you're right! What am I doing," Darla gave Skinny a quick look, "Goodbye Skinny, I'm going home" She said, quickly running out of the vault.  
"Oh come on Nicky." Skinny cried out, somehow even more distressed than earlier. "Now you and your friend cost me my girl?"  
"My friend here," Nick said sternly, "Just did you a favor, you've always had a bad taste in women."  
"You smug asshole," Skinny muttered  
"Now that she's not around maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in the hole." Nick suggested slyly.  
"Alright, you got ten seconds! After that if I ever see any of you, I'm gunning you down."  
"Fine with me" Nick said taking off with New Guy and Piper.  
"Allen Marks, by the way." New Guy said  
"Nice to meet you." Nick said with a nod  
"Clockwise."  
"What'd you say?" Nick said, genuinely unsure about what he had heard.  
"Likewise."  
Nick turned to Piper, who had started chuckling.  
"Back to diamond city?" Allen said, ignoring the reporter.  
"Sure."


	4. Meeting Nora Taylor

Allen was uncomfortable. He was wearing a suit. The two things were not related.  
Allen was at a soiree in Boston, officially he was there as a "discreet bodyguard," of the government officials in attendance. Unofficially he was there because his commanding officer, Francis Marion, thought he needed to relax.  
"Relax, Agent Marks." Marion said, sipping from the ornate glass of scotch, likely made within the first decade of scotch's invention.  
"Yes, sir" Agent Marks said, sipping at a club soda likely bought at the mini mart across the street.  
"It's a party, Agent Marks. Relax, mingle, make a new friend or two" Marion  
Suggested.  
"I fail to see the point, Sir." Agent Marks said with a glower.  
"The point, Agent Marks, is to learn to enjoy the world you're defending. I've got plenty of suicidal workaholics, I'd like at least one success story."  
"You seem to be doing well for yourself, sir." Agent Marks mumbled.  
"Agent Marks," Marion was ready to start scolding his protégé, fortunately for someone he spotted an old friend in the crowd. "Brighten up, district attorney incoming." Marion warned.  
"Mr. Marion," A loud boisterous man called out."  
"Carlson, old friend." Marion said clasping the DA's hand.  
"It's good to see you again." Carlson crowed releasing Marion's hand.  
"Yes it is, may I introduce my protégé," Marion motioned at Marks, "Mr. Allen Marks."  
"Carlson turned to face Allen.  
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Carlson." Allen said with a wide and genuine smile. "Truly, Mr. Marion speaks the world of you." This was the first time he had so much as heard the name.  
"You're a good liar, Mr. Marks." Carlson said with a throaty chuckle, "Marion wouldn't speak well of his wife."  
"A testament to your character, sir." Allen said, obeying the first law of flattery - commit  
"You taught him well, Marion."  
"Well enough, old friend."  
"Well," Carlson said, sipping from his drink, "While we're introducing protégés, allow me to introduce my own, Miss Nora…" Carlson trailed off, realizing that the person he was referring to was not, in fact, behind him. "I'll introduce you two later," He dismissed the immediate idea with a wave of his hand. "Marion there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."  
"Of course. Allen, stay put and enjoy the party." Marion ordered before walking off with Carlson.  
"Yes sir." Allen responded, resolving to obey only the first order.  
At least until he was bumped into.  
"Sorry," the new voice said. "I thought I heard my name and I came running."  
"Allen turned to face the new arrival and was struck dumb. Agent Marks was a little ashamed of himself, he was trained to react correctly and quickly to all situations. Allen on the other hand was stuck thinking "woah."  
"Hi there," The new arrival said, reaching a hand out to shake "I'm Nora, Nora Taylor."  
Nora Taylor was an attractive individual, there was no doubt about that. Nora was a little shorter than Allen but carried herself with twice the authority, she had hazel eyes, rose red hair worn in what can only be described as a formal ponytail.  
It certainly helped that she was dressed to kill.  
She was wearing a black dress outlined with trimming the same color as her hair and a large ornamental flower on the hip. It was a simple dress, but Agent Marks had seen femme fatale assassins less appealing.  
Agent Marks realized that he should say something, but unfortunately Allen was still running the show, so a few things got lost in translation.  
"Technically the message sent was, "Would you like to dance?"  
Unfortunately, the individual syllables that came out of Allen's mouth were "Khotite potantsevat'" Which was the same message in Russian.  
Nora (God bless her heart) didn't skip a beat and responded with "ya khotel by chto," Which meant "I'd like that.”  
Now Allen was a bit stuck, he could either pretend to be Russian for the rest of the evening or he could admit to having panicked and try to explain himself.  
After a pleasant few hours discussing Russian politics, sports, current events, and music (yes, both Allen and Nora knew plenty about it all). The pair bumped into their employers.  
"Miss Taylor, I see you've made a new friend." Carlson praised with his patented booming voice. Nora smiled and shrugged.  
"And Agent Marks, I see you decided to follow my orders." Marion observed with a sly grin.  
"I live to serve," Allen grumbled.  
Hearing Allen speak english forced Nora to do a double take.  
"Wait, you're not Russian?"  
"Of course he's not, why would you think that?" Marion asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"He asked me to dance and it was in Russian so I assumed…" Nora trailed off as all eyes turned to Allen.  
"I panicked." He said sulking.  
"Just to clarify," Marion said as Carlson was holding back laughter. "You are one of the lines of defense of our nation, correct."  
"I've been told as much, sir."  
"Our nation is doomed." Marion exclaimed, only half joking, as Carlson lost control and started roaring with laughter.  
"Come on, old friend," Carlson said between great big belly laughs, "Let's give these two some time to reintroduce themselves."  
The friends walked off, leaving Allen and Nora in quite the situation. Allen turned to Nora and held out his hand.  
"Allen, my name is Allen Marks."  
"Well then, Allen," Nora said shaking his hand, "I think you owe me a dinner for your behavior tonight."  
"I think I can do that." Allen responded with a grin. "I know this wonderful Russian place downtown."  
Nora smiled and Allen's heart fluttered, the two things were related.  
"I prefer Italian.”


	5. Not a happy reunion

Piper was worried about Allen, for numerous reasons, not the least of which being the Mentat he just threw back.  
"You ought to be careful with that stuff, I don't expect that's the kind of habit you're looking to form."  
Allen didn't respond, he just glared at the sky.  
"Looks like rain," he finally said. "That's a problem. Dogmeat's no bloodhound, the scent is faint enough as is. If it starts raining we might just loose Kellogg's trail."  
"Blue," Piper started, "Are you sure?"  
"I know dogs, Piper."  
"That's not what I meant." Piper scolded.  
"It's just a Mentat. Way back when, we'd need to take one on long missions. It's no big deal" Allen defended.  
"Do you want your kid to have a junkie for a father?" Piper asked, starting to sound frantic. She'd heard this song before. Allen, for his part, ignored her.  
As they paused by a lakeside, there was a chair and an ashtray.  
"Here's hoping this is Kellogg." Allen said, holding the ashtray out for Dogmeat.  
"Here's hoping," Piper said with a pout.  
She didn't think Allen was junkie, not really. But Piper knew as well as anyone what loss could do to a person. She'd seen mourning and guilt destroy people; if Allen didn't stop for breath he might as well put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.  
"We need to hurry," She heard Allen mumble, "Dogmeat, can you hurry?"  
Oddly enough, Dogmeat yelped started to trot a little faster.  
"Blue, when was the last time you slept?" Piper asked.  
"I'll sleep when Shaun's safe and Kellogg is dead." Allen answered.  
"That's not what I asked."  
"That's none of your business." Allen snapped.  
"Yes, Allen, it is."  
"Why?!" Allen shouted whirling around. "I'm a story and you're an asset. Let's not pretend."  
"Is that all you think you are?" Piper shouted, standing her ground. How dare he! A story! Piper cared about people; it was kind of her thing. "Is that all Nick and I are to you?"  
An asset! Piper had never felt so used, so trivialized.  
"Of course not!" Allen backpedaled.  
"Then what, Allen?"  
"Piper…"Allen said settling down a little.  
"What are we?" Piper asked again.  
"You're not Shaun." Allen admitted, sounding defeated.  
"Blue.. Piper started. "  
"No wait," Allen interrupted. "There was literally nothing good left in my life before I met my wife, then everything about my life was great. And then, things got better…I had a son, everything was gonna be fine. And you know why?"  
"Why," Piper asked, knowing she should.  
"Because I meant it to be. I was strong and smart and I would take on every goddamn government in the world if it meant my family would be safe." Allen was gaining steam, "But Nora's dead, and my son is missing. If he's suffering then I will never forgive myself knowing I couldn't protect him when I needed to." Allen threw his hands in the air "So dammit Piper as long as there's breath in my lungs I'll be looking for my son. Wouldn't you do the same for Nat?"  
She would.  
"Fair enough."  
"Now, let's go."  
The pair and their sniffer dog took off. The plan was to make a mad dash for wherever the hell Kellogg was hiding out, but then…  
It started to rain.  
They tried to keep going but eventually Dogmeat led them in circles.  
"Blue!" Piper shouted over the pouring rain. "We need to go back to Diamond City."  
"The scent isn't going to refresh itself, Piper, this is as far as he'll take us."  
"Then we'll search together, tomorrow."  
"No!" Allen called out. "I can find him, I know I can!"  
"How?"  
"I know his type, I know what kind of place he'll set up shop."  
"How do you know that?"  
"I just do!"  
"I can't just let you run off like this, Blue"  
"It's not your decision." Allen replied taking out a stealthboy. "I'll see you later!" He said, fading into the rain.  
"Dammit, Blue!" Piper whispered, staring at the rain trying to find the telltale stealthboy shimmer. She was brought back to reality by Dogmeat, ass with a nudge and a whimper he made his discomfort known.  
"C'mon boy" Piper said, patting the dog "Let's get you out of the rain."

 

********************  
"Where's my son, Kellogg?" Agent Marks demanded.  
"If you wanted a happy reunion you won't get it," Kellogg replied, his tone somewhere between harsh and sympathetic.  
"I won't ask again, Kellogg." Agent Marks demanded, chambering a round in his 10mm  
"I know you won't. I'll give you credit it's the way a father should act. The way I'd be acting I like to think," It was almost a compliment, even as he drew his own revolver. "He's doing great - only he's not here, he's with the institute."  
"How do I find them?" Marks asked, lowering his gun.  
"You don't," Kellogg answered, "They find you. Now, are you ready?"  
The agent sneered. "I'll make this quick."  
On his best day Agent Marks would have been able to kill at least four Kelloggs and small army of synths. Today was far from his best day. He hadn't slept in days, he'd ran halfway across the Commonwealth several times, killed dozens of people, ghouls, and synths. He'd stormed buildings with Minutemen, Brotherhood of Steel paladins, and reporters. To be frank, the fact that he was even conscious was a testament to his physical abilities, and an indicator of the amount of Mentats he'd ingested.  
Needless to say, Agent Marks was having a bit of trouble.  
Kellogg was a thug, and he fought like a thug. Brute strength enhanced by a brutal life (and admittedly, cybernetics).  
But his training kept Agent Marks alive. His training killed the synths in the room, his training shot a circuit breaker plunging the room into relative darkness. But even training was risky.  
When Kellogg threw a wild haymaker, Agent Marks lifted his left arm to block, but cybernetically enhanced limbs can be a bitch to get in the way of. And Agent Marks right arm fractured, the pain forcing him to the ground.  
Kellogg was ready to finish everything, but the Agent was a persistent bastard. It was over quickly, a hidden knife to Kellogg's foot, a few quick strikes, a stab to Kellogg's throat. In less than a few seconds Kellogg was dead on the floor, lying next to Agent Marks, who was just tired enough to take a breather.  
Agent Marks should have felt relief, or satisfaction, or anything really. But he felt nothing; things like grudges had been stamped out of him a long time ago. You don't become a spy and expect everything to be wrapped up nice and neat, you get used to the idea that you don't get to act with the Intel gathered, see the individual lives saved, or even see the end of the war. Agent Marks was used to letting things go, truthfully, he could have forgiven Kellogg, if he hadn't been in the way. But now Kellogg was dead, and with him, one would assume, any Intel.  
Luckily, Marks knew better. Luckily, Kellogg was balding. Which made the brain implant obvious.  
Agent Marks recognized the concept - an external hard drive, designed so that there was no danger between "intel gathered" and "intel protector with a gun." If Kellogg had one….there was likely info Marks could use. So he got to work.  
He just had to hope he did it right, he wasn't a brain surgeon, after all.


	6. Now I lay me down to sleep

Agent Marks was unconscious and handcuffed to a bed in the basement of the Memory Den. It would make for a good story if there had been a shouting match, some quick thinking, and a syringe of a sedative. But really Allen took two steps after leaving the memory lounger, and promptly fell face first onto the ground.  
Fortunately Nick, Piper, and Dr. Amari were still quick thinkers and figured that keeping Allen in a bed would be best for his health. They also figured that he'd be pissed when he woke up, thus, the handcuffs.  
"So, what do we do when he wakes up?" Piper asked.  
"Pray he isn't strong enough to break handcuffs" Nick answered.  
Dr. Amari wondered aloud, "Do you think he can actually do that?"  
"I wouldn't put it past him," Piper responded with a shrug.  
The trio stood at Allen's bedside, watching for the slightest disturbance in Allen's slumber.  
"Something's off about him," Nick commented.  
"He's a pre-war relic, his wife has been killed and his son stolen. There's bound to be a few things that don't click," Piper explained.  
"There's more to it than that," Nick defended. "There's something wrong with him, I don't like it."  
"This is out of character for you, Nick," Dr. Amari observed. "You're not usually so quick to judge."  
"Sue me for being suspicious then." Nick growled.  
"Then why are you helping him?" Piper asked.  
Nick only tipped his hat back and looked away, muttering, "I like being proven wrong."  
*********  
Allen was asleep for hours; Dr. Amari had theorized that he'd be asleep for days. That level of exhaustion and injury lent itself to a long recovery. As it turned out, Dr. Amari was barely half right. Allen was asleep for thirteen hours before waking up, and when he did, he was pissed.  
"Real fucking funny," Allen snarled, "now let me out."  
"No," Dr. Amari said firmly, "You need to recover."  
"I've been over this with Piper, I can handle it."  
"I don't think a broken arm, several gunshot wounds, and laser burns is something you can 'handle'." Nick scolded.  
"Nick, let me," Dr. Amari ordered.  
Allen, for his part, didn't feel particularly like being dissuaded. "I'm close, I can feel it," he begged, "I just need to find Virgil."  
"And then what? Assuming he both has a way into the institute, and that it doesn't require the resources of an army. How do you plan on rescuing your son with a 10MM and a stimpak?"  
Despite how far Allen had come since he "woke up," he was still a little light in the pockets, only surviving on what he'd scavenged. He had barely two caps to rub together, hadn't had a proper meal in a week (or two hundred years, depending on one's perspective), and only had enough ammo to last until the next time he killed someone with some he could use.  
"I'll improvise!" Allen shouted, starting to pull at his handcuffs.  
"Going toe to toe with the Institute isn't something you improvise, Blue," Piper argued.  
"Piper, let me -" Dr. Amari urged, her voice still firm.  
"I just need my son back," Allen cried out, "I'm close, I can feel it."  
"Allen, if you get yourself killed then your son will never know you," the doctor argued.  
"What if something happens? What if he stops being useful and the institute decides to get rid of him?" Allen asked, getting hysteric pulling harder and harder on the handcuff. "I can't let that happen, I won't. He's all I got!" he shouted, eyes searching the room for something to use. Then there was a snapping sound as Allen slammed his right hand into the bars he was attached to, breaking the fingers in his hand, allowing him to slip free.  
"Allen Marks, you lay back down!" Dr. Amari ordered.  
"Fuck you."  
"Now!"  
Surprisingly, Allen listened, laying back down.  
"Now, Mr. Marks," Dr. Amari started as she reached for some bandaging. "There are a million reasons for you to rest and recover, but if you need something more than 'for your health,' here are a few."  
Allen was pouting like a child, but he was listening.  
"If you find your son in this state, all you'll do is scare him. He didn't seem afraid when he was with Kellogg, he didn't seem distressed. If you show up half dead, insisting you're his father, all you'll do is frighten him." Dr. Amari explained as she wrapped Allen's hand. "You're a good man, Allen, I can tell. But you can only save one life at a time. So save yourself first."  
"What do you mean?" Allen mumbled, telling himself he was simply humoring her.  
"Rest, recover, mourn your wife. Find the man that she loved and your son would be proud of." Dr. Amari advised gently, "Then, when you're ready, with a sound mind and a healthy body, you can find your son."  
"I don't want to wait that long" Allen complained, but this time he lacked the earlier hysteria.  
"I know, but it won't take too long, trust me by the new year you'll have your way into the Institute at least, and your son back at best. Now rest, Allen." The order was redundant, as Allen fell asleep before Dr. Amari finished talking  
********  
This time Allen slept for nine hours. When he woke up, Dr Amari stuck around long enough to give a few medical instructions, and then rushed off to tend to another patient, leaving Allen alone with Piper.  
"So where's Nick?" Allen asked, trying to break the awkward silence.  
"He has work to do, he left a few caps over there as 'thanks,'" Piper answered curtly.  
Allen nodded, and actively avoided eye contact for a minute before speaking again.  
"I should apologize." He blurted.  
"You should."  
"I'm sorry." Allen started, "I've got all the excuses in the world, but I still feel like crap. I said some things I shouldn't have."  
"I forgive you," Piper said simply  
"Really?" Allen said, incredulously.  
"Like you said, you have all the excuses in the world."  
"There has to be more to it than that."  
"You're more than a story, Blue, you're my friend."  
"You make friends very quickly." Allen pointed out, sounding almost suspicious. Allen had friends sure, but none by choice. He got along with fellow agents, he talked with them, fought with them, stared down death's door with them, killed one of them (long story), but he'd never just have someone walk up to him and go "you're my friend now, deal with it."  
"Do you not?" Piper asked, confused.  
"Not in my line of work." Allen said, lying back on his bedpost.  
"What do you do?" Piper asked.  
"Off the record?" Allen joked.  
"I'm not just a reporter, Blue," Piper snapped.  
"It was a joke" Allen backpedaled. "A bad one sure but a joke."  
"So what did you do?" Piper said, moving on.  
"I was a soldier."  
"What was it like?"  
"Look," Allen said with a sigh, "can we talk about this another time?"  
"Sure," But Piper had one more, very important, question to ask. "So, what's your plan?"  
"Rest, recuperate, do my physical therapy. When I'm operational again, I'm going to find work." Allen said, eyes drooping. "Like Amari said, if I'm going to take down the Institute, I need resources."  
"Glad to see you're talking sense." Piper said with a smirk and a nod.  
"Me too" Allen said, patting his pillow down. "Excuse me for a second." And he promptly fell asleep, again.


	7. Silver Shroud: Part 1

It had been seven days since Allen agreed to take a break. He'd spent the first two in and out of consciousness, the next two forcibly bed ridden by Dr. Amari, and the next three stuck in the basement of the Memory Den, undergoing rudimentary physical therapy. On the seventh day, Piper came to visit again.

The first thing Piper noticed when she walked into the Memory Den's basement was that Allen was shirtless, the second was that he definitely had more scars than the ones he'd earned over the last couple of days, the third was that he was punching the air.

"So is that physical therapy were you come from?" Piper joked.

"Nah," Allen said casually, pretending to duck, "we'd play rugby."

"What's that?"

"Long story."

Allen waved his arms around, Piper had no idea what he was doing but it looked precise.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Piper said, cracking open one of the two Nuka Colas she brought down with her and offering the other to Allen, who accepted with a mumbled "thanks."

"Why's that?" Allen said twisting off the cap.

"Amari told me she gave you a clean bill of health, I thought you'd be right out the door after getting that news."

"Well," Allen started, pausing as he put on a shirt. "I still don't know shit about the Commonwealth."

"I'm surprised that you didn't spend the last week grilling Amari about it."

"I've cracked KGB officers less tough than Amari." Allen replied casually.

"Wait, what?" Piper said coughing up a bit of her Nuka Cola.

"Long Story."

"That you'll tell me someday?"

Allen Looked pensive. Piper was hoping he'd admit something but…

"I've already got a job lined up." he changed the subject.

"Here in Goodneighbor? Quick warning, most of the work to be done here isn't above board."

"This one seems legit." Allen defended himself, throwing his arms through his coat.

"What is it?"

"Kent Connally from upstairs wants me to find the 'Silver Shroud' costume and any other memorabilia. Some plan about bringing the Shroud to life." Allen said sifting through his weapons. A 10mm, a few grenades, a throwing dagger, Kellogg's revolver, and some crappy improvised pistol that was offensive for Agent Marks to be in the mere presence of.

"Can he do that?" Piper asked, tossing the Nuka Cola in the trash.

"I don't think he meant literally."

"How's the pay?"

"Bad, so aim small." Allen ordered as he wrapped his face in his skull bandanna.

"Aim what?" Piper asked.

"Don't miss."

* * *

 

"Dammit Piper, I said don't miss!" Allen cried, ducking a feral's wild swing.

"They're ferals, Blue, kind of hard to hit." Piper defended, reloading.

So the job was both going well, or poorly, depending on your perspective of things.

On one hand, they found the costume, a script, and a toy gun that Kent was bound to love. On the other hand, they had walked into a nest of ferals. All in all it was a fairly balanced trip.

It took some finagling, but Allen and Piper eventually cleared Hubris Comics, ending up no worse for wear. But Piper forced Allen to take a break.

"Why, exactly?"

"Just because Amari gave you leave, doesn't mean you're back at a hundred percent." Piper explained. "I'm not going to let you overexert yourself."

"Is there a point to arguing?" Allen asked, finally sitting down.

"Not much of one."

"Fair enough. Hey," Allen suddenly interjected, "Do you listen to the Silver Shroud at all?"

"Sometimes, the signal doesn't always reach Diamond City." Piper said with a shrug. "Did you listen?"

"Not really my thing." Allen dismissed, before getting pensive. "Nora loved it though."

"Oh?" Piper replied simply. Less was more in this situation.

"She loved stories, the more heroic the better."

"Tell me about her." Piper requested gently.

Allen started fidgeting with his wedding ring.

"Some other time. Have we rested long enough?" he said in the same breath.

"Sure."

"You want me to what?" Allen asked with a furrowed brow.

"I want you to be the Silver Shroud." Kent said

"Why not you?" Piper piped up.

"I'm just not c-c-capable, I could be Rhett Reinhart but not the Shroud."

"Don't sell yourself short, Kent," Piper comforted

Allen interrupted, "Okay, but why me?"

"Because you're a lot like him, except I doubt you've ever shot down a blimp full of mobsters."

"Well," Allen said, cocking his head to the side, "They weren't mobsters."

Both Kent and Piper stared curiously at Allen.

"Long story."

"Besides, you've even got your own 'Mistress of Mystery.'" Kent Added.

"My own what?" Allen asked. Piper could practically hear the distressed grin.

"You know, the Mistress of Mystery, crime fighting partner, and lover of the Shroud." Allen and Piper stopped listening after Kent said "lover."

"Hold on..." Piper stumbled.

"She's not my..." Allen balked.

"I barely know..." Piper squeaked.

"I'll be the Shroud." Allen interrupted, deciding to pretend Kent didn't say "lover."

"Great." Kent exclaimed. "Let's get started."

* * *

 

"Do you really trust Kent?" Piper asked Allen, "Maybe Wayne Delancy isn't all Kent says he is."

"I trust him," Allen answered, putting on the "Shroud Hat" "doesn't mean I won't verify"

Allen took the walk as an opportunity to create his "Shroud" persona. As heroic as the Shroud was painted in the Radio shows, Allen didn't think he could pull it off. Slightly sinister, slightly psychopathic, with a healthy scoop of heroic, that Allen could do.

It didn't take Shroud and Piper long to find Wayne.

And when they did, Wayne was kneeling over a body. Which, admittedly, didn't paint him in a good light.

"Excuse me?" Shroud called. "Is this your handiwork?"

"Yeah, it's my corpse, buddy, buzz off." Wayne answered. The Shroud made some "Tut"ing noises.

"Sloppy work, not like Ms. Selmy and her little one. That was a crime worth its weight."

"Ms. Selmy was my work, freak, and it was barely worth it. Bitch didn't have two caps to rub together" Wayne growled.

"Sloppy again, Wayne." Shroud "tut"ed again, "You forgot a cardinal rule." Shroud taunted in a song like tone.

"What's that?"

"Never admit your crimes to an executioner." Shroud said, voice dropping, a dagger falling into his hand.

The Shroud was fast, Wayne tried to line up a shot but by the time his drug-addled mind focused the Shroud was already next to him.

Using the alleyway wall as leverage, the Shroud leapt behind Wayne. Then, in one swift motion, plunged his dagger into the back of Wayne's neck, severing the spinal cord.

The Shroud left a calling card on Wayne's body.

"I feel like you took some creative liberties with the 'Shroud' persona." Pipe observed, catching up with Allen.

"I think he's cooler this way."

* * *

 

"Guns down, boys!" Shroud ordered holding a dagger to AJ's throat.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot the bastard!" AJ cried.

"AJ's gonna die, kiddies. No more paychecks for you." Shroud teased "Is he really worth dying for?"

One by one AJ's bodyguards started lowering their guns.

"Oh, come on!" AJ exclaimed.

"Smart," Shroud said gleefully, "This way you can earn your redemption in this life, rather than the next." Shroud started to pull his knife,

"Wait!" AJ called.

"You ready to stop now?" Shroud asked hopefully.

"I can pay you, fifty caps." AJ offered.

"And here I thought we'd get along." Shroud said mournfully, severing AJ's jugular.

A wide grin spread under Allen's bandanna. If anyone deserved to die, it was a drug dealer selling to kids.

"Selling drugs to kids," Allen spat on AJ's corpse. "And I thought I'd seen the worst of mankind before the bombs fell."

"Was it really so bad before the bombs?" Piper asked, "The way Kent talks you'd think it was paradise."

"There were good things, don't get me wrong" Allen explained, "But most people saw the war as abstract 'thing' on some distant shore." Allen patted down AJ's pockets, he may not have accepted the bribe, but he'd take the money "They didn't know how close we were to exactly what happened."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question." Piper pointed out.

"That I believe I misunderstood the question."

"What was it like for the average Joe?"

"You'll have to ask the average Joe." Allen answered with a shrug

The pair left the alleyway, they found a bench to sit on, with the Silver Shroud station playing gently.

"What do you mean?" Piper asked.

"On paper I had a very ideal life, valedictorian, captain of the track team, I could have gotten a blank check to the college of my choice." Allen said, staring off into the distance.

"I know what some of those words mean." Piper grumbled blankly.

"People have killed for lives half as good as mine."

"So what made you join the army, if life was so good?"

"I guess it felt like my responsibility."

"How so?"

Allen probably would have dodged the question, but luckily Kent and his radio show did it for him.

"Attention all Silver Shroud fans!"


	8. Silver Shroud: Part 2

The Silver Shroud prowled into The Third Rail like a cat, not a stealthy one, the kind of cat that accidentally knocks over a lamp and pretends like he meant to do that. Piper was just trying to make herself seem smaller. As amusing as she found Allen's "Shroud," she didn't really want people to associate "Publick Occurrences" with his brand of tomfoolery.

The Shroud was on the hunt for Kendra, and word was that Whitechapel Charlie knew where she was.

"Hey, Blue Synagogue Joey," Shroud crowed happily "Just the man I wanted to see."

"It's White Chapel, and I don't serve nutters," Charlie said. If he had eyes, he would have rolled them.

"Good thing I'm not looking for a drink, although I will pay handsomely for a little bit of intel."

"Alright, I'll bite, whaddya need."

"Well Green Mosque Cory…"

"Whitechapel Charlie," The Mr Handy interrupted, sounding as exasperated as a machine can sound.

"Whatever," Shroud dismissed "There's a weird little name bouncing around in my head, 'Kendra,'" by this point most of the bar had stopped to listen in. Magnolia was still singing though.

"I don't see how that's my problem."

"The problem, Teal Temple, is that I'm terrible with names, so I only bother to remember the names of my friends, or the people I plan on killing. And to be honest I don't know which one Kendra is yet."

Nobody got around to answering, as at that moment, a group of heavily armed men arrived.

"You the Shroud?" The leader asked.

"You Kendra?" Shroud already knew the answer.

"Kendra's a women, do your research." The leader answered, "but she's not why we're here."

"Are you here to make friends?" Shroud asked hopefully, "Yellow Monastery, beer for my new buddies."

"A bounty's been put on your head, Shroud, and we're here to collect."

"Well that's no fun whatsoever."

It was almost boring for the Shroud. A couple crack shots, and the leader was dead. After that it was as easy the as falling of a log.

There were four people in the hit squad, including the leader. The leader was dead, another was shot in the leg, the third had his hand stabbed into a table (the knife even went through the wood), and the fourth shot himself in the foot and wisely pretended to be unconscious.

"So…" Shroud said approaching the man that had been stabbed into a table. "Who put a bounty on me?"

"I ain't telling you shit," The man protested.

"Listen,Tyler -"

"It's Tony."

"It's also not important." Shroud said gripping the combat knife, "Cause I only remember the names of people I kill, or my friends," Shroud turned to Whitechapel, "Ain't that right Black Church Chuck?"

"Listen to the nutter, Tony." Whitechapel interjected.

"If you tell me who put the hit out on me, not only will I let you live, but I'll give you some caps, as an 'I'm sorry'." Shroud offered.

"How much?"

"Less than the bounty, more than nothing."

Tony thought about the offer, he was smarter than he looked.

"His name is Sinjin."

"Know anything about him?"

"Only that he pays, and kills indiscriminately."

"Alright then," Shroud said, gripping the knife a little harder, "This is gonna hurt."

He pulled the knife out of the table before handing Tony enough caps to see a doctor, and then turned back to Whitechapel.

"So, where's Kendra?"

"Water Street Apartments," Whitechapel answered, sounding as sheepish as his programming would allow, "Careful, she travels with a full crew."

"See Whitechapel, I knew we could be friends," Shroud said.

"I don't know how I feel about that."

"Nobody does."

Piper followed Allen out of the third Rail.

"So, next stop Water Street Apartments?"

"I need to talk to Kent," Allen responded, suddenly very grim.

"Why?"

“This is about to get bad.”

* * *

 

"Shroud, I d-d-didn't expect to see you." Kent stammered.

"We need to talk." Allen said, sitting down and taking off his hat and bandana.

"What about?" Kent asked.

"Both of you, actually." Allen reconsidered, looking at Piper.

"What's this about, Blue?" Piper asked, though she could probably guess.

"We've been killing members of the same gang," Allen explained. "AJ and Wayne, belonged to this guy Sinjin. Apparently he's noticed, since he put a bounty out on the Shroud."

"S-s-so?" Kent asked.

"I've dealt with this kind of situation once or twice, once the bounty's been put out, things only escalate from there."

"Are you saying you're scared?" Piper teased. Allen gave Piper a look of amusement and exasperation.

"I'm not afraid. Not for myself." Allen stood up, "For now, I'm just some nutter with a gun, as long as that's the case, they'll come for me. But the more people I kill, the more likely they'll become afraid of me."

"That's good right?" Kent asked.

"It means they won't come after me directly." Allen explained, "They'll try to use my friends against me. I haven't made many of those, and fewer that they'll find out about. But Kent, you've made your support of the Shroud very clear. And Piper," Allen said turning, "My radius is about to get much more exciting."

"Eh," Piper said with a shrug, "could be worse."

"How exactly?" Allen asked.

"Could be raining."

"They won't t-t-take me alive, Shroud." Kent said confidently.

"You see," Allen started. "That's the exact opposite of what I want."

"What do you mean?" Kent inquired.

"Sinjin might use you to bait me, but if you cause too much trouble, he'll just kill you and use the 'revenge' angle," Allen explained, "I've seen something similar in Amsterdam in 2071."

"So what do I do?" Kent asked

"If he comes for you, cooperate, don't fight, don't talk back, don't try anything. Answer, truthfully, every question they ask you."

"But what about you?" Piper asked of Allen.

Kent objected, "I w-w-w-won't betray you, Shroud."

"I can handle Sinjin and his thugs. I can even rescue you, if it comes to that. But I can't bring back the dead, Kent." Allen answered.

"Fine."

"Great," Allen said, sighing with relief. "Now, I'm going to go take down Kendra. In the meantime, I have something I need you to do."

"Anything."

"Arrange a meeting with Hancock. He probably knows more about Sinjin."

"I can do that."

* * *

 

"If you want me going to war," Allen scowled, "then you're going to have to front me some Caps,"

"Why?" Hancock said with his trademark smirk, "Vigilante work not pay well?"

"Exactly," Allen said, leaning in, "This is going to be expensive,"

"Blue, this isn't about caps." Piper weighed in.

"I'm not asking for myself," Allen defended, "I truly don't have the resources."

"Well, Blue" Hancock interrupted, holding his hand out to Fahrenheit "I'll front you some Caps, but if you cheat me..."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Allen said, crossing his arms.

"Good," Hancock nodded, and handed Allen a pouch of caps, "Five Hundred sound good to you, Blue?"

"It's fine, and don't call me Blue." Allen snapped.

"OK, Shroud," Hancock quipped. "Wouldn't want to make you angry."

Allen and Piper left the old state house and made a beeline for "Kill or be Killed"

"I don't know how I feel about that guy," Piper commented.

"I love that guy," Allen said, finally letting his excitement show.

"Really, you seemed rather cold?" Piper said, doing a double take. Allen placed his order before responding, a 308 sniper rifle, and various chemicals Piper prayed weren't for drugs.

"Force of habit." Allen said with a shrug, making his way to a chemistry station in the back of the shop.

"Alright," Piper exclaimed "No more evasive answers, you are going," Piper stressed "to explain this one."

Allen looked at Piper, and not for the first time she cursed the bandanna on his face. It was hard to gauge expressions with half the face hidden.

"You're a smart girl," Allen said, a hint of amusement to his voice, "So I'm guessing you've figured out I was no ordinary soldier before the bombs."

"I gathered that much when you killed Kellogg when you were half dead."

"Are you going to let that go?"

"Eventually," Piper answered with a casual shrug.

"Well," Allen said, "I wasn't an actual soldier for very long, after a couple of years I was recruited by the CIA."

"So you were…" Piper said, making the "go on" motion with her hands.

"A spy, but not there was more to it than that." Allen said, starting to sound a little grimmer.

"Care to elaborate?" Piper asked, softer this time, she seemed to be realizing what she was stepping in.

"Let's just say I'm glad to have a job as simple and clear as 'find and kill murderers'." Allen went quiet. "It's been awhile since life has been that easy," he mumbled.

Piper definitely realized what she'd stepped in, because her next question was more casual.

"Watcha making?"

"Cryo grenades," Allen answered clearly embracing the change in topic "A sentimental favorite of mine."

"I didn't know you could get sentimental about explosives."

"Ain't life full of mysteries? Take two." Allen ordered.

"So what do we do now?" Piper asked, taking the said two grenades.

"I'll explain on the way." Allen answered.


	9. Silver shroud: Finale

"Okay," Allen started, leaning in closer to Piper, who had the practice dummy in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle. "Aiming small."

"You going to have to explain that" Piper mumbled, closing one eye.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Allen scolded, "Don't just aim for the person. Aim for a part of the person. Aim for the spine or the heart, be specific."

"Why?" Piper asked, lining up a shot.

"Take your shot," Allen ordered.

Piper did, and grazed the practice dummies hip.

"Dammit," Piper mumbled.

"Here, let me" Allen offered. Piper stood up and Allen went prone.

"I tend to aim for the spine, midway up the torso." Allen explained, adjusting scope "A sniper is a fairly accurate gun, but the farther away from your target you are, the more outside factors come into play."

"Like what?" Piper asked.

"Wind, direction, temperature, Hell I had a gun in the war that you had to factor in the rotation of the earth."

"You're exaggerating," Piper guessed.

"Only…" Allen trailed off, taking his shot, "a little." The shot hit right where he said it would. Severing the "spine" midway up the torso.

"Take a look," Allen ordered, "If I had missed by the small margins that tend to come into play, I still probably would have hit something vital. 'Aim small, miss small.'" Allen repeated.

"Shouldn't you be the one with the sniper rifle then?" Piper asked, pouting.

"Someone has to be the Shroud."

"We could just take them out from a distance," Piper suggested half-heartedly.

"Someone has to give them the chance to surrender." Allen said, grimly.

"You think so?"

"They're criminals," Allen explained, "Most of them are just trying to survive, some have taken that to the next level but still, they deserve a chance to lay down their arms."

"Is that how you fought the war?" Piper wondered aloud, switching places with Allen

"Someone else did the asking." Allen answered, crossing his arms, "By the time I was given orders, it was past the point of no return."

"What you're trying to do," Piper paused, searching for the words, "It's noble."

"Don't get used to it." Allen said as Piper took her shot.

"Why not?" Piper asked as she handed Allen the rifle.

"Nice shot." Allen said, looking at the target "center mass."

"Aim small, miss small." Piper repeated with a smirk. "Why not?"

"I'm not always going to get the luxury of giving a warning."

"Why not?"

"I don't think that's how the world works anymore." Allen observed.   
Piper didn’t respond, he was kind of right

* * *

 

It was time to kick the hornet's nest.

Two targets - Smiling Kate, the psychopath with a posse, and Northy, the coward with a crew.

Allen knew which one to go after first. Smiling Kate.

* * *

 

"Thank you all for coming out to play tonight!" Smiling Kate said, addressing her people. "We have the most wonderful toy to sink our teeth into, The 'legendary' Silver Shroud!" She mocked, making a face.

"This is nuts" She heard one of her posse mumble.

"Now sure," Kate said, deciding not to kill the doubter, "The Shroud's already killed some of our best, but that just makes the bounty all the more juicy. Now pack your goddamn gear!" Kate shouted raising her gun above her head, "Cause we're going to be going a-murdering soon."

"Sounds like fun," called a new voice suddenly, "I'll bring the stuff for s'mores."

Everyone turned to face the new arrival, a tall man, wearing the formal attire now known as the "Shroud coat."

"If it isn't the man behind the costume." Kate sneered as she approached the newcomer. "You've been naughty, Mr. Shroud."

"You get one warning, Katie" The Shroud said. Oh, Kate just loved when they played tough guy, "I don't have to kill you, but I will."

"Ooh, is the Shroud pleading for his life?"

"I'm pleading for yours, Katie"

Katie regretted the need to kill the Shroud so quickly. She liked breaking the tough ones.

The Shroud went on, "We can walk away from this without guns."

"Fine by me, I guess I'm going to have to rip your goddamn heart out!"

Kate didn't even get the chance to move before The Shroud seemed to disappear in front of her.

She definitely didn't get the chance to start barking orders before she heard the telltale, "plinks" of grenades falling on pavement.

The grenades exploded and shockwaves of cold enveloped her entire posse. Moments later, the Shroud reappeared and started putting bullets in the heads of her now downed posse.

The last thing Kate heard was were the warning words, "I tried Katie," before a bullet was put into her head.

* * *

 

"Stay here," Allen ordered.  Kate was done; it was Northy's turn.

"I'm gonna need more than that!" Piper exclaimed, currently lying prone in a playground alien spaceship.

"Northy's over there," Allen explained.

"I gathered that from the veritable army," Piper hissed.

"I'm going to go and try to talk to him, when the bullets start flying, aim for the bodyguards, I'll handle Northy."

"How will you be doing this 'handling'? There's an army between us and him."

"Very carefully." Allen said, running towards Northy's hideout

"That's not cryptic." Piper mumbled as she lined up her first shot.

She saw Allen approach the building and faintly heard him call out "Northy, can we talk first?"

There was barely any hesitation before the bodyguards opened fire, Northy ran, and Piper made her first shot. She missed. There were seven bodyguards, she had nine rounds left in the mag.

"Aim small, miss small." She repeated to herself as she took another shot, this one striking a guard center mass.

When the bodyguards realized that both the Shroud and their boss were missing, they split up with three of the remaining six men looking for Piper. The other three chased after the Shroud, who was now pursuing Northy over the rooftops of Boston.

Piper took a deep breath, repeated her mantra, and took another shot.

* * *

 

The Shroud leapt over an alleyway, and ducked. The bullets flying overhead were more annoying than they needed to be. In the next ally, Shroud left a gift for his pursuers in the form of a bottlecap mine. Eventually, he and Northy ran out of rooftops to jump.

"Gun down, please."

"You think I'm going to just lay down and die?" Northy shouted when he saw the Shroud approach.

"There's no need to die, Northy." Shroud said, raising his own tommy gun. "I like having friends."

Northy growled, "I team up with you, Sinjin kills me and my family."

"You don't put that gun down and I'm going to have to kill you." Shroud warned.

"At least this way my family is safe."

"I can protect you, I can protect your family."

"No," Northy said solemnly with a shake of his head, "not even you can kill Sinjin."

"Nothing will stop me, Northy, don't make me kill you." Shroud urged. This man didn't need to die.

"Fuck you."

Before Northy could pull the trigger of his gun, the Shroud riddled him with holes.

"When will people start believing me when I say I can protect them?" Allen asked himself aloud. He shook his head one last time and threw his calling card on Northy's body.

* * *

 

Allen and Piper were in a hurry; recorded in the holotape they'd found, Northy had mentioned Sinjin paying a visit to Kent. Absolutely nothing about that was good news.

Naturally, they rushed Goodneighbor.  They were met at the gates by Hancock, who looked uncharacteristically grim.

"Sorry Shroud, they got away before I even got there." Hancock apologized as Allen listened to the Shroud station, hearing were Sinjin was heading, hearing his buddy get shot.

"You did all you could." Piper comforted, speaking for Allen, whose eyes were hardening in a way Piper wished she could say was new.

"I'm going after Sinjin." Allen declared, shifting his gaze to Hancock and Piper, "Wanna come with?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Hancock answered, loading his shotgun.

With a smirk at Hancock, Piper said, "Let's go save our friend."

* * *

"So" Piper wheezed between gasps for breath. They had been running nonstop for an hour. "What's the plan?"

"The plan," Allen said, his breath still even, "is that we are going to run straight at Milton General Hospital and when we get there, we are going to shoot bullets at Sinjin's gang, the bullets will enter their bodies and kill them. Then, we are going to find and save Kent. And finally, we are going to attend Sinjin's funeral."

"I like it," Hancock commented, gasping even more than Piper "Wish there were less running, I really need to quit smoking."

"If you need me to I'll slow down but I am not stopping."

"Nah, thanks," Hancock said, taking out a syringe, "I've got a secret weapon." The ghoul proceeded to pump his system full of Psycho.

"Careful with that," Allen commented, "impairs higher function, won't know when you're injured."

"Among other problems," Piper added faintly, not having enough air to back up her words.

"Intervention later." Hancock ordered with a resounding bark of laughter.

* * *

 

"Stay out of sight." Allen demanded when they had reached the hospital.

"Fuck that," Hancock protested.

"I can handle this as the Shroud. But if he sees you, illusion broken." Allen explained, "When the bullets start flying, then you can join in."

Hancock turned to the reporter next to him and asked, "Is he always like this?"

"Only when he's angry,"

"Is he angry a lot?"

"I'll tell you when he stops." Piper managed to get out before the elevator doors opened.

"Shut up" Allen ordered, taking several great strides forward. Finally, after all the cloak and dagger, he found himself face to face with a ghoul named Sinjin

"Take one more step, and we get to see what's in Kent's head."

"I don't like it when people use my friends as a meat shield," Shroud proclaimed, "Bad start, Sinjin"

"Don't talk to me like that. See, some of these losers think you're some kind of a legend." Sinjin said, his gun not wavering a centimeter from the back of Kent's head

"Legends are usually works of fiction.  Think of me as a fable. Ya know, the kind with a moral."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Sinjin mocked.

"Don't fuck with the Shroud of Death!" Shroud snarled, suddenly yelling.

"We both know you're human, Shroud, no need to play games. Look at you – what a chump! Made weak by his ties, his friends. Lured you right into my hands."

"Friends make me strong, Sinjin."

"I can play you like a chump, all because I have your friend.  So, where's the strength when you're about to die?"

"Feel the room, Sinjin" Shroud said, suddenly sounding gleeful, "Feel the fear. Remember the trail of bodies? They do," he pointed at the goons around them, "they remember how many I killed, all for my best buddy Kent."

"Enough talk," Sinjin snapped suddenly, his patience gone. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna kill Kent, then I'm gonna kill you.  Then, I'm going to Goodneighbor and burning that whole place to the ground, what do you and your friends say about that?"

"You sure about that, Sinjin?" A small sadistic smile crept through the Shroud's words as he went on, "You trust your minions to take me down? You get one shot before I start shooting. You can shoot Kent, but what then? You trust these cowards to kill me?" Allen made smacking sound with his lips "The fear is palpable, Sinjin, it's delicious. You kill Kent, I kill your people, and then I make you suffer for the rest of your life, which will be long and painful. You turn that gun on me though, you get half a hope."

Shroud started to do a little dance in place and taunted the ghoul in a sing song tone as he spoke, "Maybe you're a better shot. Maybe I'm just human. Maybe you get lucky and I go down with the first bullet. Half a hope or certain death, Sinjin? Better decide quickly. Otherwise, I'll choose for you."

Sinjin hesitated, a fraction of a second, before turning his gun to Allen.

Sinjin was carrying a .45 caliber submachine gun, a crack shot can go from an at rest position, sight a target, and take a shot in half a second.

Allen had a similar .45 caliber submachine gun, also at rest. But his pistol was more accurate.

Allen pulled his gun down, tearing through the straps of the specially made holster, and raising to up to Sinjin.

The fastest shot from a holster was .252 seconds, but all that man had to do was hit a target, not even a specific target, not keep a target safe. That was a very special technique.

Allen had a fraction of half a second to aim and take a shot.

He took two.

The first grazed Sinjin's gun, throwing it off balance, the second struck Sinjin in the upper left shoulder.

The ensuing seconds were chaos. Hancock and Piper tried to join the fray but the Shroud killed fast. No more training, no more "two to center mass, one to the head." Five targets other than Sinjin, six headshots, four seconds.

Nobody hurt Allen's friends and got away with it.

* * *

Allen and Piper were at Power Noodles. After a couple of days in Goodneighbor on cleanup duty, Piper had wanted to check on Nat. Allen, of course, went with her.

"Do you think Kent's going to be alright?" Piper asked.   
"The guy's tougher than he realizes. When he figures that out, he'll be just fine" Allen answered.   
“Okay, I have a question.” Piper started.   
“Can it wait?” Allen asked.   
“Just, hear me out first?” Piper requested.   
“Fine.” Allen mumbled.   
“You don’t seem the type to make friends quickly,”   
“That’s not a question.”   
“Well, and I am not complaining” Piper clarified, “What was with Kent?”   
“Long story,” Allen said, stirring his noodles.   
“Not this again,” Piper sighed.   
“Well what do you want from me?” Allen asked, setting his bowl down.   
“Secrets aren't healthy, even if there's nobody left who can be hurt by them.” Allen stared pensively at his bowl.   
“Back in the war,” Allen recalled, “I had very little direct contact with my commanding officers.I always went through a middleman, if I had Intel, or needed help, or even just someone to talk to that reminded me of who I was, I had to talk to the same guy.”   
“Who was he?”   
“A kid, codename William Friedman. It was weird to think of him as a kid, he was only a year younger than me, but he seemed more ‘youthful’ than the rest of us.”   
“Does Kent remind you of him?”    
“Not really,” Allen scratched the back of his head.   
“Than what is it?” Piper pushed.   
“War is nasty business,” Allen said, “More often than any of us liked, we had to do bad things for, hopefully, good reasons. ‘The greater good’ and all that malarkey. Even the most dedicated of agents start to get tired of it eventually. Will, well, he believed in us.” A wistful smile spread across Allen’s face. “Not just the ‘greater good’ belief. He really thought we were heroes. After he died, we all went to his house, and on a cork board, he had articles from all around the world about the lives we saved. Those ops were exceptions rather than the rules, but he still believed.” Allen’s smiled disappeared. “It was nice to be believed in like that again, to be seen as a ‘hero’ rather than a ‘necessary evil.’”   
“How did he die?”   
“Bone cancer, there was a reason all he did was manage the agents.” Allen picked up his bowl and tried to take a bite of noodles, but fumbled with his chopsticks.   
"Didn't they teach you how to use chopsticks, 'Mr. CIA'?" Piper teased, trying to lighten the mood.   
"I spent most of my time in Russia. All they taught me was the different types of vodka." Allen said with an exasperated sigh, giving up and switching to a fork.   
"Why Russia?" Piper asked, innocently. Allen sighed and put down his bowl.   
"Look Piper, I know that there's no malice here. But I couldn't even talk to Nora about the details of my life as a spy. And it wasn't all just to protect her. Someday I'll be ready to tell you everything about everything. It's just a little too fresh."   
"I can't promise I won't stop asking questions. It's in my nature, Blue."   
"I'm not asking you to stop, but can you start accepting 'I don't want to talk about it' as an answer?"   
Piper nodded.  "I can do that."   
"Great." Allen said, picking up his noodles.   
"You gonna keep the costume?" Piper asked as they ate.   
"The armor definitely, damn thing stopped bullets."   
"What about the hat?"   
"I'm not one for hats" Allen said, taking his hat off   
"But you are one for skull bandanas?"   
"Touché," Allen replied. He looked at the hat quizzically before reaching over and placing it on Piper's head.   
"Hey!" Piper complained, taking it off.   
"It fits you," Allen observed.   
"You think?" Piper crinkled her nose. Still, she took off her press cap.   
Allen shrugged.  "Sure."   
Piper put on the Shroud hat. She could get used to it.  "So, what next?"   
"Geez," Allen exclaimed with a chuckle "Can I finish my noodles first?"   
With a laugh, Piper replied, "Take your time."


	10. Epilouge

That night Allen didn't sleep. Sure, he was tired, and sure, he should have. Without a doubt, it would have certainly been healthier than popping a Mentat and staring at the stars all night, but he still didn't.  
He was annoyed.  
Life before the war wasn't perfect. He had issues to work through, and the war was more than just a news story to him, but it was his life to live. All that had been stripped away from him in what felt like a day.  
In what felt like a day his world, his nation, the causes he believed in, the people he had known, had all been taken.  
All that was left was Shaun, his son, his little big man.  
He had a lead, but he had to wait - they were making him wait.  
They were right though, running off half-cocked was going to get him killed.  
But what did they know? This was his boy, what right did they have to stop him?  
Except all the right in the world when they're, well, right.  
Marion had once told Allen that waiting was the hardest thing to do, but when dropped behind enemy lines you can't just start shooting, you have to scout, gather intel, find your sea legs so to speak.  
Marion had been right, Amari was right…if Allen just made a mad dash to the Institute he'd likely get himself killed.  
That being said, the world wasn't safe in general - raiders, supermutants, deathclaws, particularly ambitious mole rats. So really, what was a little exhaustion on top of the pile? That's why God invented Mentats, to get soldiers through battle (and college students through exams), and if all that was left of his world was Shaun, then didn't he have the right to make that mad dash? Who could blame him?  
Piper probably.  
He should probably start trying to sleep. He had work to do. People to see, things to take of.  
Preston was still waiting back at Sanctuary Hills; he had kind of left that offer to join to Minutemen hanging in the air.  
All things considered, a group like the Minutemen would be good to have at his back if this rescue operation turned into a war.


End file.
